Praries and forests

There's not a cloud in the piercing blue skies when we awake at 6.00am, but plenty of ice on the ground.
The dogs enjoy scampering in the snow banks as we enjoy a warming cup of tea.
Then we descend from Lake Louise and rejoin the highway to Banff, where we eschew the tourist shopping and choose to reprovision ourselves, starting with a bacon ommelett.
As we take a stroll to see the Hoodoos - towers of rock along the scree slopes above the river - the sun is hot on our faces, but the air is crisp and cool. Beneath us the wide Bow river valley winds back up to the glacial icefields.
Construction of this spectacular 230 km stretch of road was started in 1931, and it opened in 1940. It passes 32 glaciers, and traverses terrain from the meadowy Montane valley floor (1500m) around Jasper, through the spruce and fir forests in the Sub-alpine zone, and up to the treeless Alpine zone, above 2200m.
What a ride.
As Julie Hodder requested there are some close-up pictures posted of some of the roadside bears we saw.
After leaving the mountains of Banff we turn east towards Calgary, then south to Fort McLeod, across the now gently undulating grasslands. The terrain is dry, and the never ceasing wind rustles the stubble of last year's brittle crop stalks in the fields.
We visit another Unesco World Heritage site at Head Smashed In Buffalo Jump. It's just what it sounds like - what's the word for that? - a remarkable location significant to the Plains Indians for over 9000 years.
It's now a hot afternoon in a mostly flat place although the constant wind has a chill bite to it. Before we left I packed the walls and ceiling of the van with 2 inch thick many-styrened foam, and it really helps to keep both the heat in at night, and keep it out during the day. The dogs are all very relaxed, and the interior comfortable when we return from the cliffs.
Now we are racing across the Praries of Saskatchewan, where the sheer giant size of the farm equipment talks of vast bean and grain farms. Tall grain silos punctuate the horizons. Did I mention the relentless, and powerful, wind that buffets us all day?
Eastern Manitoba brings more rocky contour lines, sturdy forests, chill lakes and beautiful old weathered barns.
Manitoba wins the award for "Most creative and comprehensive interpretive roadside symbols". There are symbols for skiing, snow-mobiling, bungee jumping, bow hunting, lemonade stands, pie-slices ahead, fishing hooks, swing sets, and so many more. Some communities offered so many of these 'symbolized' services and attractions that there was a huge board at the edge of town, covered in symbols like the Periodic Table. To memorize and interpret the welcome board was a test of creative memory.
We race past Winnipeg, having no time to visit the tantilizingly sounding 'Golden Boy' statue in the Capitol Biulding, and plunge into the woodlands of Northern Ontario.
At a Gas Bar we meet a Mennonite farmer, also filling up, who had visited fellow Mennonite farmers in Ritzville, Eastern Washington. We compared winds. Here, this year, the winds were lasting longer than usual, and although they were robbing the fields of soil, the recently planted crops would be safe, one inch down.
He also recommended Halifax to us, particularly 'Phil's Boutique' where there are nice people without tattoos or earrings, and there is fruit and veg available from around the world apparently.
The searching wind follows us, and combined with the energetically bouncy highway, makes for a vigorous ride.
Morning storms lurk in our rear view mirror, whipping up soil in obscuring brown clouds and hurling it against the van.
We again pass bear, moose, and occasional stubborn patches of ice, clinging to fast-growing waterfalls.
The pleasantly winding highway cuts through rocky hills covered with dense forests of pine and starkly contrasting white-barked aspen and alder, or, curves around dark ponds and wetland swamps formed by beavers. A full half of the Provinces Highway & Transportation budget is spent on putting up hundreds of highway signs warning against moose-vehicle impact. There are so many signs the moose are getting tangled up in them. The catchy warning phrase is 'Moose on the Loose' and features a cartoon picture of the drivers view of the impending collision with this towering swamp roaming beast.
There are so many lakes, held in this rocky landscape, some brinkling in the sunlight, some still and brooding in the shadow of the forests or a sudden granite outcrop.
There's little traffic on the smooth road, and barely any evidence of human habitation for miles and miles. The forests, rolling rocky heaps and lakes seen to go on for ever.
Sudden unmarked roads peel off into the seemingly limitless wilderness, and occasional unexpected signs talk of bear hunting lodges, fishing resorts, community pig roastings on Thursdays, and 'hard ice cream, at last'.
For the last couple of nights, at dusk, when we are tired of watching for moose (of which we have seen a modest total of one) and ready to set up camp for the night, we have turned up one of these lucky-dip gravel and dirt roads. Unsignposted to an unmarked destination, through a clearing in the forest, and past the weathered wooden signs, offering in peeling blue paint, guided bear hunting trips and an authentic lodge in 13 kilometres.
We find a quiet, level, turnout on these infrequently travelled tendrils of the road network through the forests, and settle in.
This involves making tea, or straight to cocktails if it's later than civilized time, and burning up some canine energy chasing tennis balls on the fringes of the bear, elk, moose, caribou, wolverine and mountain lion laden forests. We are careful to listen, look, and make noise before venturing out into the darkness.
Tonight as we made camp it began to snow with the afternoon rain. This is a colder place than further west, where buds were bursting green on the trees already. Here the rocky soils allow stands of thin bare birch, and stocky pines.